In My Memories
by Amythesica
Summary: Companion fic to In My Dreams. These are just a bunch of memories from Eden. They're also just little things that people requested I write, or expand on, or something that I came up with that won't fit into the main fic.
1. Memory 1: Sadism and Masochism

**So...yeah... No warnings should apply, but, if there is a chapter that requires either the rating to go up, or one of the warnings to be applied (on AO3), it will. There will be nothing too graphic though. I think.**

**I'm not really entirely sure since I'm not writing ahead like I am with In My Dreams**

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**Memory #1 Summary: The first time Eden hears the words sadist and masochist**

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**_Saturday, September 12, 1992_**

**_Slytherin Common Room_**

Eden yawned sleepily and curled into Monty's side as he continued to run his fingers through her hair.

He had long since tugged it out of the complex Viking braid updo she had it in, and she was nearly purring as his calloused fingers rubbed against her scalp and her silky black hair. Her tense muscles relaxed further when his short nails scraped her scalp and purred and curled closer to him.

Monty laughed at one of the fights going on in front of the large fireplace—the one he laughed at, and she watched was right in front of them. Draco plopped onto the couch next to her and forced his head onto her thighs, uncaring of the way her legs were curled under her. As he pulled out a book, she began to run her fingers through his gelled hair—she used one of the spells that one of the one too many books that Narcissa had bought her to keep it from sticking to her fingers.

"Merlin, you are such a **sadist**, Marcus," Anna-Maria Jynx snarled after he shot some curse she didn't recognize at her. Eden's eyes opened and she sat up slightly at the **new word**.

"At least I'm not a submissive **masochist**," the sixth year returned, "I mean, come on love, just admit it already. Everyone knows that you _are_ a **masochist**."

She pulled completely out of Monty's embrace, and attention was brought to the duo as he tried to get her back. "Little Eden, _come on_! I was having _fun_!" he griped.

"What does '**sadist**' and '**masochist**' mean?" she demanded instead.

Marcus choked along with Anna-Maria, Julia Morginnson, Antony Selwyn, Orion Frost, Dillon Willoson, Athania Thornton, Ursula Kobe, and Echo Rathmore. "What? Why would you ask that?"

"You called her a **masochist**, and she called you a **sadist**. What do those words mean?" Her lips were pulled into an adorable pout as her left brow was furrowed—which only added to the cuteness. When no one answered, she repeated the question.

"Little Eden," Echo started, "you don't need to know what they mean."

She pouted even more. "What do they mean?"

Ursula tried her hand at dissuading her. "You're too young to know."

"No, I'm not. If I were too young for it, you guys wouldn't say it around first and second years. What. Do. They. Mean?"

Draco, Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Millicent, Theo, Tracy, Gregory, Vincent, Ambrosia, Evanius, Blaire, Septimus, and Janice joined in on the begging until the sixth and seventh years finally relented.

"Alright, _fine_! You mangy _mutts_," Marcus hissed. The second years just laughed at the insult because they all saw the affection in the words. "A **sadist**…is someone who…uh…"

"Likes…" Athania took over, "uhm…they like to uh…"

"They like to cause…uh…_pain_ to people."

"Yeah. Let's go with that! A **sadist** likes to inflict pain upon others. Just pain. Nothing else. _Definitely_ nothing else."

The second years narrowed their eyes at them before they reluctantly accepted the definition. "And **masochist**? What does that mean?"

The older students got together into a small circle and whispered amongst themselves for five minutes before they agreed on something. "A **masochist** is someone who finds…gratification…in pain."

Something clicked in Eden's head from something Sirius had said once. "Oh! Like, no pain, no gain?"

They all exchanged looks before they shrugged. "Yes. Exactly like that. Just that way, alright?"

Eden was confused as to why they looked so relieved that she had accepted that definition and even offered her own take on it.

She shrugged and forgot about it.

…

…

Until that night as she waited to go to Tom.

Was it possible to be something _other_ than a sadist or a masochist?

She didn't think she was either one.

* * *

**_Sunday, September 13, 1992_**

_**Slytherin Common Room**_

"Hey, Marcus?"

The sixth year turned from his conversation about Quidditch—gag—and pulled her onto his lap, much to her consternation. "What's up, Little Eden?"

Anna-Mariea started to run her fingers through her curled hair and she purred slightly, but she would _not_ be deterred from her quest. "I have a question."

"Well, you're in luck, I happen to have an answer."

She smiled. "Is there something between a sadist and a masochist? I don't think I'm either."

He choked along with the other students around her—they were all sixth and seventh years, as the younger years seemed eager to hear the answer as well.

"We should have obliviated you instead of humoring you," he groaned.

"Well, what is it?"

"Something you are _far_ too young to know."

She scowled, and before she could say anything, a fifth year who didn't mind telling her things piped up. "It's called **sadomasochism**."

Great. A **new word**. Again.

Sigh.

"What does that mean, Selwyn?"

"It means you like causing pain, and you like being in pain."

"Oh…"

She wasn't that either.

Oh well.

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If you liked it, and want more, let me know and I'll see what my mind can come up with.


	2. Memory 2: First Kiss

**I had a kind of sucky day today, so I wrote this to make me smile. Sorry for any mistakes. ****The bottom author's note is also a result of a sucky day.**

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**_Wednesday, August 3, 1994_**

_**Malfoy Library**_

"Eden…?"

Eden looked up from her book and smiled at Draco. "Hey, Dray. What's up?"

"Can I ask a favor of you?"

She tucked her legs to her chest, and he took the opportunity to sit next to her on the couch. She draped her legs over his and got comfortable. "Sure. What do you need?"

"Well…you see…uhm…"

"Spit it out, boy!" The two fourteen year old's flinched at the sound of his grandfather's voice.

Abraxas Malfoy, even in his old_ish_ age, was still a pompous peacock who didn't suffer fools, or those who stuttered. It was one of her favorite things to cast the Stuttering Jinx on him whenever she and him were in the same room—at least, when she went back in time, it was.

Now, at 67 years old—considered middle-aged for most wizards—he suffered an extreme case of Dragon Pox. He had moved into the Malfoy Ancestral Home on Lucius' and Narcissa's insistence, so he'd be surrounded by family before he passed.

He kept mostly to his rooms, and when he was well, he gave the Weasley twins a run for their money with the pranks he pulled on the two teens and their friends.

"Grandfather, you should be resting!"

He flapped his hand at Draco and shuffled into the room. He sat on the armchair across from the teens. "I'm fine. I'm fine. Now, I believe that I need to approve this favor you are asking of your darling friend, my grandson. Now speak."

Draco was an interesting shade of red as he began to stutter once more. "It's fine—I mean—I'll just ask later—"

"You will not, boy! You will ask her now." A large book fluttered over to the man and rested gently on his lap.

"Dray, whatever it is, it can't be too bad," she tried to placate him.

"It's well—it's _private_," he hissed.

"All the better! Entertain your grandfather, Draconius," Abraxas boomed. There was a certain light in the elder's eyes that made her think that he knew _exactly_ what Draco was going to ask her.

Now if only _she_ knew what he was going to ask her to do.

Draco groaned. "But, Grandfather—"

"No buts, boy! Obey your elders!" Abraxas was _very_ fond of yelling in his old_ish_ age.

"Dray?"

"Well, you see…. We're fourteen…" he trailed off and cleared his throat. He picked at the sofa between the two of them."

"Yes…?"

A quiet snicker stole her attention, and she glanced at Abraxas to see him lounging like a king while he watched them with a giant grin on his face.

"And you see…well…uhm…"

A light flickered on in her head when Abraxas nearly broke from trying to keep from disturbing the two—he was failing, _miserably_.

"Oh, you want to kiss me."

"Yes! Well, I mean like, not like _that_, obviously, but you know…like—like—like—like _practice_ of sorts."

She bit her cheek to keep herself from laughing. "Alright. Kiss me."

"Right now?" he squeaked.

"Now, boy!" Abraxas howled, "do it now!"

"If you do it, maybe we could hit him over the head with something and make him forget that this ever happened," she whispered softly.

Draco brightened before he nodded, and the two adjusted themselves so they sat facing each other with their legs crossed.

"That's how you're going to do it? No, no, no! Stand up! Both of you. Right now!" The two teens exchanged a nervous look before they did as commanded. "_Now_ you two may kiss."

"Grandfather!"

"What? I'm helping you. Trust me, Draconius. _Kiss her_!" The way his voice deepened into a guttural growl terrified the literal _snot_ out of her.

It seemed to have terrified Draco as well, because he suddenly had her face in his hands and his lips on hers.

They pulled away after about a minute, and refused to look at each other while Abraxas laughed so loud and hard that he broke into a fit of coughing and summoned a worried Narcissa.

How the two wished he hadn't.

"Father? Is everything alright?" she questioned as she stepped into the large room.

"They—_kissed_!" he wheezed, "it was the worst kiss that I've ever seen!"

"Is this true?" Narcissa asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, and it's _never_ happening again."

"Agreed."

"Let's not speak of it."

"Ever."

"Do you want to hit your mother, or your grandfather? I'll take the one you don't choose."

"Why are you two hellions threatening to hit my wife and father?"

"They _kissed_!" Abraxas wheezed again while the two kids screeched to try and cover the confession.

It didn't work.

Lucius looked at the two with a peculiar light in his eyes. "Father, I want your memory of that moment."

"Gladly, my son, gladly," he wheezed before he broke out into another fit of laughter.

* * *

**Abraxas: Draconius! Get in here!**

**Draco: That's not my name!**

**Abraxas: Draconius, if you don't get in here I'm leaking my memory to the Prophet!**

**Draco: My name is Draconius, my name is Draconius *crying* my name is Draconius.**

**Eden: Hey Dray, what's up?**

**Draco: My name is Draconius, my name is Draconius.**

**Eden: *Exchanges look with an adult (probably Lucius)* Abraxas got to him again, didn't he?**

**Adult: Yes, I believe he did.**


	3. Memory 3: The Mirror of Erised

**If you've read my short story Horcrux of Desire, you'll see some similarities to how this was written. I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. I'll leave you to read now. **

**This was written for vampireharrypretty on FF. Thanks for the suggestion. I hope you like it.**

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**What a 7th year Tom Riddle sees in the Mirror of Erised.**

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**_Thursday, September 7, 1944_**

**_The Room of Hidden Things_**

It wasn't uncommon for Tom to wander around the school after he finished his rounds.

In fact, it was _extremely_ common for him to do so. Although . . . sometimes he _shouldn't_ wander, just because his Eden could show up at any moment. At the beginning of the year however, it was typically safe for him to wander without fear of her showing up on death's door.

Though . . . there had been that one time in sixth year . . . .

How he _yearned_ to be able to go to her time and make every single person who touched her _pay_. His vast stores of magic snapped around the Room, and a sword fell from a tall pile next to him, and he forced himself to calm.

One day.

One day they would _all_ pay.

The ring on his finger warmed, and he knew that many people would pay, _many_ times. Afterall, one didn't touch a horcrux, and get left untouched. Especially if there had been proof that the person who had touched it had harmed him or his lovely little one.

He shook his head to leave his thoughts in his mind—where they would stay until it was time for them to be made reality—and continued to look around the large, seemingly endless Room. He didn't know exactly what he looked for, but he knew he searched for **_something_**.

Something that **_tugged_**.

He walked passed years, and years of history, and paused occasionally to inspect things, and _some_ of those things were put into his pockets—especially if he thought his little one would like it—but overall, he continued to walk.

He continued to search.

He knew he had found what had called him to the Room, when he came upon a **_large_ mirror**. He looked at the inscription at the top, and he immediately turned to leave, only to pause.

What harm could the Mirror of Erised do to him?

It was a _mirror_. It's not like it could **suck him inside** of it and **trap him** until it saw fit to **release him**.

He turned back around, and **gazed** into its depths.

The first thing that he noticed, was himself. He stood tall and proud, and he could _see_ that vast fountains of magic that he had at his control. He stood immortal, over all of Wizarding Britain, and he _ruled_.

The next thing he saw, was his lovely little one, his Eden. She stood next to him, and she too, had power. Power that he could never _imagine_ trying to control, use, or damage. She stood, curled into his side, and looked down upon the sheep below them with kindness. She turned her face up, and looked at him with fondness.

Or love.

It could be love.

His double in the mirror looked down at her, and wrapped his free arm tightly around her before he lifted her up slightly, and pressed his lips to hers in a deep, possessive kiss. His Eden responded to the advances in kind, and he felt something kick in his heart.

Oh.

Could _that_ be what the trembling in his heart was whenever his little one was near? Was he . . . in love? with Eden?

He was fond of her.

It was hard to not grow somewhat fond of someone you were forced to spend hours a day with—granted, he had grown to _care_ for her quite quickly, and had grown to look forward to, and treasure, the time spent with her.

It was impossible to not grow to care for someone who was _so_ innocent, and yet _so_ abused by those who didn't understand her.

But . . . was that fondness . . . could it really be _love_?

The couple in the mirror separated, and he knew that not only was what he saw in the mirror his greatest desire, it was his **_future_**.

He would do _anything_ to make that his future.

The ring on his hand throbbed, and he knew he had found the way. The way was through his Eden.

**Together**.

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**Give me your thoughts! Ideas! Suggestions! I shall see what I can do with them!**

**I think I have used far to many bangs today. I'm going to go. **

**I _hate_ exclamation points...why do I use them?**


	4. Memory 4: She Still Loves You

**Written for Kishie8 on AO3. It's not exactly what you suggested, but, this is what my brain came up with. I hope you still like it.**

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**Draco and Harry have a confrontation about Eden after the Second Task**

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**_Saturday, February 25, 1995_**

**_Hospital Wing_**

"You need to sleep, Draco."

Draco shrugged off his godfather's hand and shook his head. "No. If she wakes up, I want to be here." It didn't matter that exhaustion currently gnawed on his bones and threatened to eat him whole.

He hadn't slept since he woke up in the Lake the day prior.

He was too scared. Scared that his sister in all but blood would die of Magical Exhaustion. Scared that he'd wake up and be at the bottom of the Black Lake, suffocating on water, and dying of water pressure. He was scared that this was all some sick nightmare, and that he'd wake up in the Lake again, and it would repeat over, and over, and over, and over until he went insane.

Uncle Severus sighed behind him. "I know how you feel, trust me. I really, really do. But, staying here, keeping yourself awake, isn't going to help anything. In fact, we both _know_ that if you make yourself sick worrying over her, she's going to kill you."

"Please, Uncle . . . . Just until morning. Let me stay here tonight."

The man heaved a heavy sigh before he ruffled his mussed-up hair. "Alright. But tomorrow, you're sleeping in your dorm, or so help me—understood?"

"Understood."

Uncle Severus left, and the door to the hospital wing shut softly behind him. Draco turned his attention back to his sister, and grabbed her small hand, and held it in between both of his. "I promise you, Eden, if you don't wake up, I'm going to kill you," he whispered.

He pressed a kiss to pale knuckles before he let his head droop forward, and they pressed against the tense skin of his forehead.

She _had_ to wake up.

|}(){|

Draco's eyes snapped open when the door to the hospital wing creaked open behind him. He must have fallen asleep.

Footsteps, and then the door gently shutting. He stayed exactly where he was—he didn't want to bring attention to him, or his sleeping sister.

Shoes scuffed softly against the stone tiles, and he noted with no small amount of despair that they approached _him_. He closed his eyes, and hoped that it was just Ambrosia or Pansy sneaking in to see Eden—they had done it the night prior.

He forced himself to relax, and had nearly convinced himself that it was one of his best friends, when the tip of a wand pressed into the side of his neck.

"I know you're awake, _Malfoy_."

His eyes opened, and he scowled at Potter. "So what?"

"Leave."

"Why should I?"

"Because _I'm_ her brother. Her twin. She may not care about me, but I still care about her. Now _leave_. I want some time alone with her."

Draco stood. "What nonsense are you spouting Potter?"

The lion glared for a moment before he started to speak. "A few days ago, when she was sick with a headache, I snuck in to see her. She's never handled headaches well, and well . . . I thought that maybe she'd like a head massage . . . . I used to give them to her when we were younger." Regret crossed his face, and Draco realized that despite his inaction towards the abuse that their sister faced, he still cared about her. The younger boy cleared his throat. "Anyways. I overheard the two of you talking—" A light went off in Draco's head. "—and I heard her say that you were her brother, and that no one could be to her the way that you were, not even me."

It hurt him to realize that he pitied Potter. The pity burned like acid in his blood, and tasted like bile in his mouth, and scorched his skin and nose, and it rang angry in his ears. He blinked slowly, and forced his Mask to stay. "If you heard that, then surely you heard what she said about you."

"Yeah, I did," the boy scoffed, "she said that you're more important to her than I am."

Draco sighed. "You left too soon, Potter. But, I congratulate you on how fast you got out of there. A few seconds after she said that I was one of a kind—thank you very much—she said that she still cares about you."

_You're a peacock, Dray. You and Lucius both._

"What do you mean?"

"I'm her brother. You're her twin. She said that we're both important to her, just in different ways."

The wand quivered for a moment before it dropped to Potter's side, and the Gryffindor sagged. "What?"

He didn't bother to try to not roll his eyes. "Really, Potter, do you have a brain between those monkey ears of yours? Drop the wand, and I'll tell it to you more clearly. She still loves you. Very much. Despite everything that you've said and done to her, she still cares about you, and I don't know why." He held his hand up to prevent the boy from interrupting "If you care about her, do her a favor, and leave her alone. Get Weasel to leave her alone. Get the rest of your over-grown housecats to leave her alone."

"Why you little—"

"Just until the Third Task. She may not show it to the other students, but the Tournament is killing her. She can't handle the antagonism from Gryffindor, the stress from her classes, or her _twin brother_ constantly attacking her verbally. Just give her until the end of the Tournament, and then you can do whatever you want—" not that he'd let him "—just let her prepare."

"Why should I do that?"

"The Tasks are designed to get harder."

"How do you know that?"

Merlin the boy was stupid. "My father, how else? Do you really not care about the Tournament and what I just said?"

"You said it's hard, so what?"

Mordred. "You don't deserve a sister if you really believe that." He grabbed the wand that was now pointed in his face. "She's almost died in the last two Tasks. From what I've heard, the last Task is going to be the hardest. Just let her prepare."

"Why?"

"For her. For your sister."

The wand was yanked out of his hand, and the Gryffindor stormed out of the wing. He sat on the bed next to Eden, and held his head in his hands.

"Your twin is stupid, I hope you know," he groaned just before he laid down next to her.

* * *

**I love hearing your guys' suggestions. I write them down and hide them away on my computer, and whenever I need a break from In My Dreams, I look at the list and write whichever one calls to my brain at the moment. **


	5. Memory 5: Updates

**Most of these jokes were found online, and only one of them wasn't. It was so bad that I had to put it in, and it was found on a gogurt thing.**

**I wrote this while I was out of town, and on the plane, because I despise flying.**

**Written for CrystalAris on FF.**

* * *

**_Tuesday, February 27, 1945_**

_**Head Dorms**_

_You left me. _

Oh, Merlin. The shard was pouting. Tom groaned before he dipped his quill, and wrote.

_Eden was still here._

_You could have at least warned me before leaving after that wonderful joke._

He groaned. _I don't recall ever warning someone, lest of all you before doing whatever I please._ He paused. _And that joke was most certainly not wonderful._

_Says you._

_Yes, says me. Anyways, where were we?_

_Elephants._

He blinked multiple times. _Pardon?_

_We were talking about how good elephants are at hiding in cherry trees. _

_We have never seen an elephant hide in a cherry tree before._

_It's because they paint their nails red._

_I have never seen an elephant with red toe nails before. _

Where had this complete, and utter _nonsense_ come from?

_It's because they're hiding in cherry trees. _

_Is this another joke that Eden taught you?_

_I'm sure I don't know what you mean._

_If you don't behave, I'm setting you on fire. _

_Been there, done that. Think of something more original, Tom. Hell, I can set myself on fire. See?_

Before he could stop it, the diary was burning on his desk. He rolled his eyes, and doused the flames.

_I don't recall being this difficult at your age. _

_It's a gift._

He pushed away from the desk, and stalked to the other side of the room. As he walked, he had to remind himself that he _did_ love Eden, and that the soul shard was a necessary evil, along with keeping it updated. The clock chimed the hour, and he moved back to the shard.

_I believe we were discussing the Triwizard Tournament._

_Yes. Do we know who put our darling little one in?_

Seething rage echoed in his mind. _No. I am searching for ways to bring her back, or take me forward for a time so that I may punish whoever did. _

_Good. _

The diary continued to behave as he updated it, until it decided that behaving was no longer an option.

_Can I ask a question?_

_What is it?_

_What's the tallest building in the world?_

He paused.

That was _not_ what he had been expecting.

_I don't know. Are you talking muggle or Wizarding?_

_I know what it is. Do you want to know?_

**_Eden, what have you done, my love?_**

_I don't particularly care to know._

_Too bad. It's the library. Do you want to know why?_

_Why?_

Why, Eden? Why?

_Because all of the stories that it has._

The love of his life had created a _monster_.

_Can I ask another question?_

_Is it a serious question?_

_It's a very serious question._

_Fine. _

_Why do seagulls fly over the sea?_

Fantasies of tearing the diary to small pieces started to fill his mind. _I find that I don't particularly care._

_You're no fun._

_Deal with it. I believe we were talking about dragons._

_Yes, and lightning._

He was in the middle of describing how he used _Medela Aer Grandis_ to heal Eden, when the diary started to heat in his hands.

_What do you want?_

_Why do seagulls fly over the sea?_

He picked the diary up, and threw it across the room, and shot a blasting curse at it. Fifteen minutes later, he retrieved the object, and opened it to find the question continuously repeated.

He sighed.

_Why?_

_Because if they flew over the bay, they'd be bagels._

He bit his tongue as he began to consider if the diary was still a necessity.

_Did you laugh?_

_No._

_Not even a little?_

_Not even a little._

_Oh! I know something that'll make you laugh. _

_Please no._

_What—_

_Stop. Please._

_What do you—_

_I'm begging you._

_—call a dog—_

_Tom. Please._

_—with no legs?_

Would killing the diary count as suicide?

Probably.

_I don't care. _

_No. I can feel it. This is the one. What do you call a dog with no legs? It doesn't matter what you call him, he isn't coming. _

He slammed his head against the diary. Maybe if he hit his head hard enough, he would forget that the conversation had ever happened.

_Did you laugh?_

_No._

_Not even a little?_

Didn't they _just_ do that?

_Not even a little._

_Dammit. _

_If you want to know about what's going on with Eden, behave._

The diary's temperature spiked, before it rapidly dropped, and Magic Crystals formed on the cover. He sighed fondly before he peeled them off, and placed them in a small crystal vial that was nearly full of the pale, pinkish-purple of the extremely _sparkly_ items.

They were extraordinarily rare, and were only formed by extreme temperature fluctuations caused by Pure Magic.

Once the vial was full, it was going to be given to Eden.

_Thank you._

_You're no fun._

_So I've been told. _

_Knock-knock._

_No._

_Knock-knock._

_No._

_Knock-knock._

_NO!_

_KNOCK-KNOCK._

_Fine, you mangy pest. Who's there?_

_Tank._

He groaned and began to weigh the pros and cons of dousing the object in Fiendfyre. As he wrote, the letters were stiff and block-like.

_Tank who?_

_You're welcome. _

He put the quill down and walked away. He began to seriously contemplate either the complete destruction of the shard, or cutting Eden's hands off.

Perhaps he could just spell the diary so she couldn't touch it again. She'd be mad, but she'd still have her hands.

And her love? Hopefully?

Behind him, the diary burst into flames.

_One more joke,_ he wrote, _and I promise you will regret it._

_Oh, yeah? What will you do?_

_In short, you'll never speak to Eden again. _

_That's not fair!_

_Neither is this torture. _

_It's not torture!_

_Yes, it is._

_No, it's not. Do you want to know what torture is?_

He _knew_ he was going to regret asking.

_What?_

_A turkey crossing the road twice to prove it isn't a chicken. _

_That was awful._

_I came up with it on my own._

_You're a failure. _

_I can't believe you'd insult us that way. We've created two Horcruxes, the first to ever do so._

_Point to you. You're still a failure at making jokes._

_Let me prove you wrong._

_You're just going to use the jokes that Eden taught you, and take credit for them._

_You'll never know._

_I'll ask her, idiot. _

_Yes, but you won't know until she gets there in the morning._

_Fine. Prove me wrong. And we both know how rare that is._

_Why do mermaids wear seashells?_

Eden most definitely taught him that joke. _Why?_

_Because B-shells are too small, and D-shells are too big._

He groaned. _Atrocious. _

_Why can't your nose be 12 inches long?_

Merlin, help him.

_Why not?_

_Because then it would be a foot._

Where was his dagger? Death needed to occur.

_Pathetic. _

_What did the right eye say to the left eye?_

_What?_

_Between you and me, something smells._

_Painful._

_What do you call a bear at the beach?_

_If you say gummy bear, so help me—_

_Lost._

He paused.

_You came up with that one, didn't you?_

_How could you tell?_

He snorted in amusement. _It was worse than the others._

_Rude._

_Pathetic._

_Wimp._

He rolled his eyes. _Do not tempt Lord Voldemort more than you already have._

_Oh, I'm so scared. Someone save me from the maniac speaking in third person._

_Which do you think would be more painful? Venom, or Fiendfyre?_

_Penguins._

He drew back and blinked. _What?_

_Penguins will be more painful._

_How?_

_They sing 'freeze a jolly good fellow' for birthdays. That would definitely be more painful._

He groaned, and wondered when the torture would end. _You have a point. Unfortunately._

The diary heated before it rapidly cooled. He pried the Crystals off, and the object repeated the action many more times.

It was celebrating.

_You still haven't made me laugh. I don't know why you're cheering. _

_My grandfather has the heart of a lion—_

_Our grandfather was a Slytherin._

_Let me finish, fool. Our grandfather has the heart of a lion, and a lifetime ban from the local zoo._

He sucked his lips into his mouth, and bit down hard. He covered his mouth, and breathed deeply.

_You're laughing, aren't you?_

He shook his head. _I'm not. _

_Are you sure?_

_I'm sure._

_I don't believe you._

_I will admit it was mildly amusing._

_Oh! I know!_

_No more._

_Even people who are good for nothing have the capacity to bring a genuine smile to your face. _

_How the hell do useless sheep accomplish only what Eden is capable of?_

_You'll smile when you push them down the stairs. You'll grin when it's two flights of stairs, and you'll laugh when it's off of the Astronomy Tower._

Tom snorted, and laughter bubbled out of him. He laughed, and laughed until he couldn't breathe, and then he laughed some more.

By the time he got a hold of himself, the diary was heavy with Crystals, and they were the largest that he had collected so far. It took twenty minutes to pry the whole Crystals off, and that was because more kept forming.

_We now have a full vial of Crystals, and then some. Probably enough for one or two more._

_You were laughing._

_Yes._

_I told you I'm good at making jokes. I just had to feel you out first._

_We'll see._

* * *

**_Wednesday, February 28, 1945_**

**_Head Dorms_**

"Eden?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes, love?"

His heart warmed, and he wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her softly. "Did you teach the diary the stair joke?"

Her head tilted to the side, and her left brow furrowed. "No. I didn't teach him any stair jokes. Why?"

He really came up with that joke on his own. "He just made me laugh last night."

She smiled, and his heart thudded. "I'm glad. Mordred _knows_ all of the jokes I taught him. He's been trying to create his own from them for about a year now. I'm pleased he finally made one that made you laugh."

He tightened his grip on her, and kissed her deeply. "I Promise you, Eden, if you teach him anymore jokes, I'm spelling it so you can't write in him anymore."

She pouted, and he kissed the pout away. "Fine. But, you have to admit that they were funny."

"I will admit no such thing."


End file.
